


Academy Cat

by Aelimir



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Romance, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 13:02:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelimir/pseuds/Aelimir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock has been carrying a secret since he was very young, believing it would set him even further apart from everyone. Would he find someone who accepted him as he is?</p><p>My second Spock-as-a-panther story. Didn't turn out the way I envisioned. It's been sitting on my hard drive for a few months, but despite my reservations maybe you will all enjoy it anyway. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Main Story

It first happened when he was thirteen.

Spock was running from Stonn and his acquaintances. They’d threatened to escalate their bullying to “physical stimuli,” so the only logical conclusion was to flee. He believed they would not pursue him beyond the educational facilities, but that hypothesis had proven incorrect. His situation was rapidly deteriorating. By his estimation, they would catch up with him in about thirty seconds. He would have to find a place to hide. He glanced around, but the only possibility was to climb the tree near him and land on the roof of a nearby dwelling. However, the branch he needed to leverage himself upwards with was just out of reach. He heard the steady thud of his pursuer’s feet. Twenty seconds. Ten seconds. Five…

Spock gathered himself, and _leaped_ with all his might. His body twisted and sprang in a strange, unfamiliar way. He reached desperately above his head, and dug into the branch with his nails. Strangely, they held him with enough strength that he was able to swing the rest of the way up. He got a flash of black paws beneath him as he scurried to the roof, then they transformed back into hands. He stared at them as Stonn and company ran by on the street below, calling for him, apparently unaware of his current whereabouts. When he was sure they had traveled a safe distance, he crawled back onto the branch, examining it. Deep claw marks that could not have possibly been left by his fingernails assured him that the black paws had not been merely a hallucination induced by momentary fear.

What _were_ they, then?

Spock immediately concluded he could not go to anyone for insight. Even if they believed him, having yet another aspect of himself that differed him from others become common knowledge was unappealing. He would have to investigate the matter for himself.

It took several months of experimentation and research, but he discovered that he had the ability to become a panther-like creature at will. This talent was indeed, unique to himself. Though he could not draw a definite conclusion, the cause appeared to be derived from the genetic tampering necessary to produce a Vulcan/Human hybrid. It was believed that all humanoids shared a common ancestry that lived billions of years ago. The geneticists had believed that if they regressed key Vulcan genetic sequences to the equivalent of their ancestors, it would be more compatible with a human’s. On the surface, this appeared unlikely to work, since Vulcans descended from feline-like creatures, and humans, from apes. However, they knew what they were doing, and it had indeed worked. Though he could not prove it, it appeared his altered feline genetic sequences had resulted in in something they had not predicted: feline shape-shifting. He had no other explanation.

Spock kept this knowledge to himself. If one day, he became bonded, he would share his ability with his partner. Otherwise, no one would know. He practiced his shifting until he grew quite proficient at it. He used it to escape Stonn on numerous occasions, until the boy grew bored with fruitless chases.

Now, Spock had left Vulcan, and was enrolled at Starfleet Academy. He found adjusting to humans to be quite difficult. They were wildly emotional and unpredictable. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason or logic to any of their actions. The females were especially puzzling, inviting him to consume questionable drinks and batting their eyelashes at him one moment and walking off in a huff the next.

Spock found this distracted him from his studies. He knew if he were to succeed in Starfleet, he would need to learn to get along with humans. However, he preferred his learning experiences to come in smaller doses. So it wasn’t long before he chose to travel outdoors in his panther form instead. This proved quite effective at dissuading approach, if anyone even caught sight of him. He was quite adept at stealth with all the practice Stonn had given him.

One day, Spock was ambling along in the large park for the cadets, in no hurry to go anywhere. He was enjoying the quiet solitude that his panther form afforded him. Most people didn’t give him a second glance, apparently assuming he was merely a larger version of the other loose cats that roamed the campus and nearby streets. But today, for the first time, he was approached while in his cat form.

“Hey, you’re pretty big there, fella,” said a bright, cheerful, male voice.

Spock froze, and then slowly turned. It was a blond cadet that he recognized from his classes. Spock searched his eidetic memory for his name. Kirk.

“Wow, look at those fangs,” said Kirk. “And those claws! I’m surprised no one has tried to catch you. But, you seem pretty tame.” Kirk approached him slowly.

Spock dithered, torn between fleeing and indulging his curiosity about what Kirk would do next.

His hesitation made the decision for him. Kirk got within arm’s reach and squatted next to him. “Hey, big fella. Where do you come from?”

Spock regarded him silently. Why did Kirk talk to him, when clearly, he could not answer? Yet, such illogic was only to be expected from humans.

Kirk reached out slowly, and Spock tensed. Nobody had touched him in this form. Nobody touched him even in his Vulcan form, except for his mother, and the occasionally brazen female.

“Hey, it’s okay,” assured Kirk, before giving him a gentle pet. He retracted his hand, and Spock relaxed. That had not been overly unpleasant, merely strange.

“Been here long?” Kirk asked.

Spock stared at him with such disdain that the human laughed. “Hey, I know. I’m weird, talking to a cat. If Finnegan were here, he’d never let me hear the end of it.”

Resigned to Kirk’s continued presence, Spock settled down into the grass. Kirk plopped down beside him. “You know, I thought with all of Starfleet’s high notions and aspirations, things would be different. But it turns out there’s bullies in Starfleet just like there is in Riverside.”

At least this was something Spock could relate with. He wondered how Kirk dealt with his bullies, since it was doubtful he had Spock’s ability to shape-shift. Spock could estimate the odds, but he did not believe that Standard had words for that percentage of a decimal.

“ _You’ve_ probably never been bullied a day in your life,” Kirk mused. “You’re the big cat in town.”

If the cadet only knew. Of course, if he did, he wouldn’t be speaking to him. At the Academy, Kirk never gave him a second glance. To be fair, Spock hadn’t given him a second glance, either. Spock wondered why Kirk was bullied. He did not seem to stand out from his classmates in any way that he could detect.

“But, that’s life, huh? It’s not so bad. The Academy is great. I really feel like I’ve found my place in life, right here.”

Spock agreed with that sentiment. They sat for the next several minutes in companionable silence that Spock found rather pleasant. He’d never been in the company of another humanoid without something being demanded of him. He wished this would happen in his biped form; however, if he conjectured his future from past data, it appeared astronomically unlikely.

“Well, I have studying to do. Maybe I’ll see you again.” Kirk flashed him a brief smile as he rose and departed. Spock watched him go, before stretching and heading to his dorm. He believed Kirk’s idea had merit.

Though Spock caught brief glances of Kirk on campus, he did not meet up with him again until a few weeks later, while Spock again wandered in his feline form.

“Hey, I wasn’t sure if I’d see you again! How’ve you been?” inquired Kirk, sitting down instead of coming closer. Spock hesitated, but approached him and lay down in the thick grass, eyes on the cadet. He was most curious as to what Kirk would say this time. It was much easier to interact when he did not have to guess what was expected of him in return. It was most pleasant.

“I wonder where you live. I’ve asked around, but not many people seem to know about you. It’s pretty strange, you know? You’re pretty unforgettable.”

Spock had been called many things, but not “unforgettable.” Despite his Vulcan sensibilities, he preened inwardly. He’d long ago discovered that emotionalism was different when he existed as a feline, and had accepted it.

“I’d take you home, if my dorm mate would let me. He’d probably just say that ‘living with one goddam animal is bad enough, I don’t need two of you!’” Kirk laughed. Despite the seemingly derogatory nature of the conjectured comment, Kirk appeared to enjoy the possibility. Most illogical.

“So, can I pet you, or are you still squeamish?” Kirk asked him.

Spock eyed him warily. The first attempt hadn’t been too bad. He would allow him to repeat the experiment.

Kirk reached out, and, encouraged that Spock didn’t tense up as much this time, he slowly stroked his back. Spock’s eyes shut halfway. It was strangely soothing. Kirk repeated the motion, and then moved his whole body closer so he could be more comfortable. Spock dropped his head in the grass and allowed Kirk to pet him all over. A strange rumbling vibrated in his chest.

“Are you _purring_?” Kirk asked in disbelief.

Spock flicked his ears. It appeared to be the logical conclusion. Despite his embarrassment at the rampant emotionalism, he was quite fascinated by the experience. He’d never purred before.

Encouraged, Kirk began massaging him in earnest. Spock decided there was no logical reason to move anytime soon, and his eyes drifted shut. His purring increased, until his entire body vibrated with it. Then Kirk’s hands left him. Spock’s eyes flew open and his head jerked up in protest. He looked at Kirk questioningly.

“Gotta go. Sorry, pal. Maybe I’ll see you again.” With a final, gentle pat, Kirk turned and walked away.

Spock stared after him, feeling oddly bereft. Why had he stopped? What was so important? With nothing else pressing to do, he stealthily followed the cadet. He’d never used his form for information gathering before. He wasn’t _stalking_ the cadet. He was merely curious as to his next destination.

He got his answer a few minutes later. Kirk disappeared into a dorm, then came out accompanied by a female who was “batting her eyelashes” at Kirk. Spock catalogued Kirk’s responses to her. Apparently, they were the appropriate ones, because the lady did not walk off in a huff, as they did with Spock. Quite the contrary, her expression only grew brighter the more Kirk talked. Kirk flashed her a big smile. Spock’s tail twitched. He did not see what was so important about this female that Kirk had to end his time with Spock. Also, why didn’t Kirk smile at Spock like that?

It was illogical to ask himself questions he didn’t have the answers to, so Spock slunk away and discreetly changed back into his Vulcan form. If a female approached him again, he would try telling her the things that Kirk had told his companion, and observe the results. Perhaps then, he might understand.

It wasn’t long before an opportunity arose. He wondered why so many females approached him, as he did not observe them behave this way with most of the other males. They often used the word “adorable” when describing him. Perhaps this mysteriously defined quality was something the others lacked? Whatever the reason, a female cadet who’d introduced herself as Nyota was now talking to him in a manner that usually led to an invitation for shared personal time. Spock recalled Kirk’s lines with perfect clarity, and delivered them with scientific precision.

For some reason, this appeared to amuse the woman greatly. She covered her mouth with her hand in a highly ineffectual attempt to conceal her mirth at his expense. Spock raised an eyebrow. Though this didn’t quite correlate with the response of Kirk’s companion, it was, indeed, an improvement over his previous logical attempts to deal with the situation. He would continue to use Kirk’s lines and observe the results.

“Oh, Spock,” she gasped with a laugh. “Who taught you that?”

“I observed someone saying it,” Spock admitted. “I presumed it was acceptable behavior for humans.”

“Maybe if you’re a playboy, like Gary Mitchell or Jim Kirk,” Nyota told him.

“I do not understand this “playboy” reference,” Spock said.

“It’s nothing you are. That’s why I like you. So, what do you say?”

Spock delivered another one of Kirk’s lines that conveyed acceptance with a quirk of his brow. As he predicted, Nyota laughed outright and appeared delighted, despite her previous insistence that it did not mesh with his personality. It must not be as negative as her tone had implied. Given what he knew of James Kirk, it made sense. In an illogical, human sort of way, of course.

They ate lunch together at a café near the campus. Though Spock did not understand how to make “small talk,” Nyota was unusually patient with him, for a human. Perhaps her companionship would continue longer than the others had. When they finished eating, they said their goodbyes with a vague promise to meet again. Spock walked back to the campus, quietly analyzing the interaction. While it had not been unpleasant, he still did not understand why it had seemed so important to Kirk.

Speaking of Kirk, the cadet was walking towards him on the sidewalk, a focused expression on his face as he didn’t give Spock a glance. The Vulcan’s brows drew together. But of course. Kirk had no idea that he and the panther were one and the same. Spock, of course, had no intentions of revealing that, but he found he did not like to have Kirk ignore him completely. So Spock did something he had never done before: he sought interaction with a human outside of educational reasons. “Greetings, Cadet Kirk.”

Kirk’s legs stuttered in surprise. “Uh, hey. Spock, right?” he said.

Spock fell in step beside him. Strange how different his manner was now that Spock was in his biped form. “You are correct.”

“What’s up?”

“I believe that is what we are here to learn,” answered Spock, rather confused.

Kirk gave a short laugh. “I suppose you’re right.”

Silence fell as Spock searched for something to say. Though he much preferred the undemanding interplay while he was a feline, he found the opportunity to speak with Kirk rather engaging. “How are your studies progressing?”

“Oh, you know,” Kirk shrugged. “It’s a piece of cake, really.”

Spock’s brows drew together. “I fail to see how the demands of the Academy courses resemble a Terran baked food of questionable nutritional value.”

Kirk chuckled again. “It doesn’t, it’s just one of our illogical human expressions. Oh – Hey, McCoy!” Kirk waved to a rather disgruntled cadet that appeared to be older than him. “That’s my dorm mate. He promised to be my wingman.”

“I was unaware that our class had progressed to simulations,” Spock said in confusion.

“No, no,” said Kirk, grinning. “It’s another expression. It means we’re going to get drinks. He’s going to help me pick up women.”

Spock opened his mouth to tell Kirk that he appeared strong enough to manage it himself, and then closed it. Judging by the previous flow of conversation, it was unlikely he meant it in a literal sense. He changed tact, driven by curiosity. “Is this why you are labeled as a ‘playboy?’”

“Whoa, hey, who’ve you been talking to?” Kirk laughed. “I’m not out to hurt anyone. It’s all in good fun.”

By now, McCoy was within feet of them. “Hey McCoy, this is Spock. Spock, McCoy,” Jim introduced him.

Spock gave McCoy a curt nod. “Cadet McCoy.”

“Actually, I prefer Dr. McCoy.”

“Very well, doctor,” Spock agreed easily. He spoke next without thinking. “Though as a medical professional, I admit surprise that you would deem your dorm mate an animal.”

McCoy gaped at him, and Kirk, strangely, howled with laughter. “Oh my god, where have you been getting this stuff about me?”

“I have heard it said at the campus,” said Spock, backpedaling. It wasn’t a lie.

“Your reputation precedes you, kid,” McCoy griped at Kirk, recovered from his shock. “Told you should cut down on the drinking and partying!”

“Yeah, yeah. I will when you will,” said Kirk, and McCoy appeared to have no comeback. “Say, Spock. Want to be my wingman too?”

Spock’s brows drew together. “I am inexperienced in what you refer to as ‘picking up women.’ I do not believe I am a good candidate.”

“Nonsense, Spock. Word has it, you’re the hottest item on the campus,” insisted Kirk. “Women approach you all the time!”

Spock, though confused at the terminology, could not argue with the conclusion. “Indeed.”

“Heh, and you’re modest, too. You’ll do great!”

With that, Spock found himself accompanying the two cadets to a bar. He’d never entered one before and studied his surroundings with curiosity. He sat at the bar with them and sipped an Altair water. It wasn’t long before Kirk approached a woman sitting at a nearby table and conversed with her at length, drink in hand.

“Is it true that Kirk drinks too much?” Spock asked McCoy suddenly, surprising even himself.

“He’s not as bad as some, but yeah, I think he should cut down,” McCoy told him, glancing at him strangely. “Why do you ask?”

“I do not know,” Spock admitted.

McCoy grunted. “I know what you mean. Times like this, I don’t know why I bother. But, he’s not a bad kid. Don’t tell him I said that.”

“I shall keep your confidence,” Spock promised. He found it difficult to reconcile the cocky, brash cadet in front of him with the gentle, kind, sincere side of Kirk he experienced as a feline. He found he greatly preferred the latter.

Kirk soon disappeared. Spock and McCoy made conversation in short bursts over the next hour before the doctor finally gave up and called it a night. Spock exited the bar after him, and, deciding he’d had enough of humans for the day, discreetly switched forms. He was quite undisturbed the rest of the way to his dorm.

Spock encountered Kirk in both of his forms with more frequency during the weeks that followed. His preferred interaction was while he was feline, with Kirk massaging him and telling him whatever was on his mind far more honestly and openly than he did when he believed himself observed, Spock purring all the while. Even so, a vague, unfamiliar feeling of guilt rose in Spock. He knew that his relationship with Kirk had progressed to the point that his behavior towards him was considered dishonest. Yet, how could he tell him the truth? A time or two, Spock opened his mouth to tell him, but nothing came out. Why was it so hard? He had never lost control of his faculties like this before. Also, why did he find it increasingly difficult to suppress his annoyance at Kirk’s behavior, especially when he left him to pick up women?

Spock found himself turning to McCoy for advice when he encountered the doctor without Jim tagging along. “Doctor. I have something of a sensitive nature I wish to share with Jim,” he admitted. Jim had finally convinced him to start using his first name. “He may react negatively. How do you suggest I approach him?”

McCoy eyed him speculatively. “I’ll tell you something. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

Spock raised a brow. “Why do you come to that conclusion?”

“Look,” said McCoy grumpily. “I ain’t blind to the way you two look at each other. If you approached him, I think he’d actually go steady for once. It’d be a nice change.”

“Go… steady?” Spock inquired, very confused. What did this have to do with his feline form? Clearly, the doctor had made a false conjecture.

“Uh, you know. Court for a long period of time. Which for Jim, is more than a week,” McCoy said. “Whatever you Vulcans call it. Bonding rituals?”

Comprehension dawned. “You believe me to be romantically interested in Jim?”

“Well, it’s pretty damned obvious. Every time he leaves you for a woman you look ready to snatch him back. And he acts nervous around you, like he’s scared to approach you about something he wants to say.”

Spock had been so busy with that very dilemma he’d failed to notice any mirror behavior in Jim. “Fascinating.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve heard my two cents,” McCoy grumbled. “I’ve got to get to class.”

Spock watched him go. His conversation with the doctor had left him more confused, not less. He could not deny the evidence that backed McCoy’s assertions, yet, how did this factor into his feline problem? How could he inquire into a possible romantic relationship when also admitting to deception? It was most illogical, even for a human. Yet, Spock knew that the more he delayed, the more the situation would deteriorate. He would confront Jim at the first opportunity, despite the strange sinking feeling in his chest.

He planned the conversation carefully. He waited until his dorm mate left for the weekend to visit his grandparents. Then, he invited Jim to join him in his room to talk. Strangely, Jim appeared as nervous as he was. If McCoy was to be believed, this was because Jim was interested in a romantic relationship. It did not make sense to him, especially since he never seemed nervous about his other romantic conquests, but he yielded to the doctor’s expertise on the matter.

Spock gestured for Jim to sit down on the bed, before putting his hands behind his back. Jim sat down, scratching his neck nervously.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

“Jim, I have been dishonest with you,” Spock said without preamble.

Whatever Jim had been expecting, that wasn’t it. He stared at Spock in confusion. “What?”

“I hope you will forgive the dishonesty and continue to associate yourself with me.”

“Hey, it’s okay, Spock,” said Jim. He couldn’t imagine what the uptight Vulcan would consider “dishonest.” Maybe that his favorite color was purple instead of blue? “What is it?”

“I believe it would be better to show you.” Spock swallowed and straightened further. Then he closed his eyes, and shifted. When he opened them, Jim had a hand over his mouth. Since his feline form did not facilitate communication, he quickly shifted back. “What are your thoughts on the matter?”

Jim still appeared unable to speak. Spock’s brows drew together. “I realize this is quite unusual. I have never told anyone about my ability. However, considering our relationship, I believe I owed you this knowledge.”

“It’s been you all along,” Jim said quietly, for once not giving away what he was feeling. Spock thought it was an inconvenient time for him to gain that ability.

“Affirmative. I prefer to wander the grounds, undisturbed, for peace of mind.”

“You don’t like getting mauled all the time by illogical humans,” Jim mused, his face blank.

“While I find the imagery to be graphic, it is not a completely untruthful parallel,” Spock admitted. “However, I… enjoyed our time together in my feline form.” Spock studied Jim’s averted face. “Does my ability disturb you?”

“No, no, it’s totally badass. You’re like, Batman – or, Catman,” Jim gave him a brief grin.

“Yet you do not appear pleased,” Spock observed. “I assure you, it was never my intent to deceive you. When we first met, I did not predict that you would continue to associate yourself with me in the manner that you have. I prefer to keep my ability to myself.”

“Spock,” Jim said, appearing to struggle for words, which was unlike him. “Humans, ah, sometimes act differently in private than they would if they knew someone else was around.”

“Indeed,” said Spock. “I have observed that in you. However, I see no problem. You have accepted how I am different; I see no reason not to return the gesture. Also, I found your behavior with me as a feline preferable.”

“You _did?_ ” questioned Jim, shocked, meeting his eyes.

“Affirmative. Your manner was kinder, more open, intelligent, and sincere. In addition, your skills as a masseuse are unparalleled. Have you formal training?”

“You didn’t think it was, well, _weird?_ ” Jim asked, remembering with sharp embarrassment some of his more, ah, personal comments.

“Negative. I found your verbal commentary to be quite engaging.”

Jim smiled slowly, Spock’s earlier comment coming back to him. “I have never been trained as a masseuse. But I had a cat at the farm, and he liked being petted that way.” His grin widened as he remembered how Spock always became a big puddle of purring fur whenever he touched him. It was such a stark contrast to the seemingly untouchable, emotionless Vulcan. So, Jim wasn’t the only one who behaved differently when he believed himself unobserved. Maybe there was hope after all.

“You have forgiven my deception?” Spock prodded, now that Jim’s countenance appeared positive.

“Well, it’s pretty embarrassing,” Jim confessed. “But yeah. It’s cool.”

“Good.” They were silent for a bit, slightly awkward. What now?

Jim asked questions about his shape-shifting, which Spock answered to be best of his ability, detailing when it began and the suspected cause. Jim listened raptly, his manner softening into the one he’d used with Spock’s feline form. Spock found the change quite pleasing.  He found he did not want to share it with anyone. That would require taking the next step, as McCoy had presumed he’d intended to do. Yet, now that he was faced with making a move, he found his vocal cords, once again, mysteriously inoperable.

“You know,” said Jim, his grin turning rather manic. “We could have a _lot_ of fun with your shape-shifting.”

“To what are you referring?” asked Spock.

“Take McCoy, for example. He’s so much fun to prank.” Jim thought fondly of a few fast ones he’d pulled with his friend, which, to this day, McCoy hadn’t realized was him. It was _hilarious_. “We could sneak you into the dorm, and you could leap out at him or something.”

Spock imagined the scenario. “Is this not as deceptive as the behavior I exhibited with you previously?” He did not want to make the same mistake again.

“This is different. This is for fun,” said Jim, but he didn’t press further.

_“There is another matter,” Spock said, now that his vocal cords were operable again._

“What?” Jim asked softly, his face growing serious as he sensed the shift in Spock.

“It has come to my attention that our relationship has the potential to become more. Is this correct?”

“Meaning?” Jim asked, anticipation rising.

“Meaning that you will engage yourself with me rather than females. Is that agreeable?” Spock waited tensely for his answer. It was possible McCoy had been mistaken.

Jim gaped at Spock’s bluntness. “Yes, yes it is.”

Spock offered two fingers, his eyes soft. Jim stared at them in question. “It is a Vulcan kiss.” Jim’s fingers met Spock’s. Spock allowed himself a tiny smile at the dawning joy on Jim’s face. Jim had accepted him, even knowing everything about him. He wasn’t alone anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my preferred ending to his story. The next chapter is an alternate ending that I didn't like as much, but seemed a shame to delete, so if you want a longer version of this story, read on. The italicized sentence starts my preferred ending, so mentally delete that sentence and everything after that if you're reading the next chapter.


	2. Alternate Ending

“Hey  - want to go to the park again? And transform? If you want.”

“Very well,” said Spock, transforming on the spot, to Jim’s delight. Jim let him out of the dorm, and they walked quietly to the place he usually found Spock, and sat down with him. Now that he knew who the cat really was, he felt a little awkward and nervous about petting him, especially considering how he felt about him. But, the Vulcan obviously loved it. So Jim reached out, and massaged him with his usual firm, even touch. Spock rapidly melted and purred. Jim continued much longer than he usually did, thinking quietly. Though Spock found his “verbal commentary engaging,” he couldn’t quite bring himself to talk to him like he used to.

When Jim got up, Spock followed him without changing form. A woman he didn’t recognize came up to them. “Oh my god, what is that?” she asked Jim.

“He’s mine,” said Jim without thinking. “You like him?”

“He’s awesome,” she said, reaching down to pet him.

Spock shrank back instinctively, distracted by what Jim had said. It had caused a feeling in his chest that was not unpleasant. As a feline, his instincts were highly territorial, and he liked being associated with Kirk.

“Sorry, he’s a little shy,” Jim apologized.

“It’s all right,” said the woman, drawing back.

They made more “small talk,” to the point where Spock decided he had better things to do. He started to leave. “Hey Sp – er, well, looks like my cat’s getting impatient,” Jim said. “Wanna meet up later?”

The woman agreed, and they made arrangements. Finally Jim followed Spock out of the park. “Sorry about that,” said Jim.

Spock, of course, could make no reply, so he kept walking, heading for Jim’s dorm. Jim let him in, and Spock transformed back into a Vulcan. “I must return to my studies,” said Spock, finding nothing else to say. He felt strangely displeased with Jim.

“Hey, you don’t have to leave just yet,” he said, sounding genuinely sorry.

“You have to meet that female soon. I would not want to delay you,” Spock said in a clipped tone.

“Well, come back anytime, in either form,” Jim said with a tight smile.

“Very well,” said Spock, then he left. He did not wish for Jim to meet with the female, yet, unless they were “going steady,” as McCoy had put it, he had no right to ask him not to. He had never attempted to approach anyone in a romantic manner before, and the doctor seemed reluctant to offer more details. He would have to conduct research.

Spock ended up going to a gay bar to observe how men approached other men. It was logical to conclude it might be different from how men and women approached each other, and could explain his difficulties with Jim. However, a few hours of observation while consuming a questionable Terran drink did not yield any definite results. Indeed, many of the ways these men approached each other were not consistent with the manner in which he preferred to conduct himself.

He picked up his drink again, deciding to finish it and leave. However, he noticed it tasted a little different this time. His brows pulled together contemplatively. Very curious. He saw a couple men watching him, so he raised an eyebrow at them and walked out the door.

He’d barely exited when he realized something was very wrong. His sense of balance was off; his inner clock failed; and the mere act of putting one foot in front of the other became excessively challenging. He felt hands grab him from behind. “Need help there, mister?” one jeered.

Spock turned his head just enough to see the men who’d been watching him earlier. “I seem…to…”

“We’re not gonna let you go home alone,” the other laughed meanly, his meaning clear.

Normally, Spock did not panic, but whatever they’d spiked his drink with loosened his controls considerably. He jerked himself out of their grip and sprinted a few drunken steps around the corner, using the last of his focus to transform and dive behind a trash can. The world spun oddly as he collapsed.

“Hey, where’d he go?!” One asked the other.

They looked around, but didn’t realize that the large cat was the man they were searching for. “There goes our fun. He looked like such a good fuck.”

Spock, fearful that he would not be able to maintain his form in his drugged state, ran away in a panic, despite his constant stumbling. He willed himself with all his might to stay a cat, he must, he must. Instinctively he headed for Jim’s dorm instead of his own. He yowled in distress and scratched blindly at the door, barely able to stand.

Presently, it opened to reveal a half-dressed Jim. When he saw Spock’s shaking form, the smile fell from his face. “Hey, uh… buddy, what’s wrong?”

Spock pressed up against his legs, shivering.

“Come inside the bathroom,” Jim whispered. “You can transform in there, and we’ll talk.”

Spock hardly registered the words, he was in such a state. He did notice Jim start to move, and he instinctively pressed against his leg and moved with him, until Jim had closed the bathroom door behind them.

“You can transform. You’re safe,” Jim said.

Spock tried, and found he couldn’t. His mind was locked down tight in fear. He shook his head.

“You can’t?” Jim said. “Nod yes if so.”

Spock nodded, and resumed shaking. Jim sat down, and Spock crawled into his lap, making a distressed noise.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. We’ll figure it out, Spock,” Jim reassured him, petting him hesitantly. Spock relaxed a little under his hands, so he continued, a little more confidently. “I’ve got to let her know what’s happening. I’ll just tell her something happened to you and we’ll have to meet up again another night.”

Jim started to get up, but Spock dug his claws in reflexively. “Hey, ow,” Jim said, wincing. “Ok, I’ll pick you up, but you’re heavy.” Jim heaved him up in his arms, and Spock curled tightly into his chest, still shaking in terror. He distantly listened as he talked to the woman and heard the door close as she left.

“What am I going to do with you?” wondered Jim worriedly. Should he call a vet? Or would McCoy be better? He couldn’t decide. Clearly, something very bad had happened to make Spock act this way.

McCoy stumbled in a minute later, interrupting his debate. “What the hell, Jim, did your dick finally fall – what the hell?” the doctor said as he spotted Jim on the couch with a giant, trembling black cat curled in his lap.

“Something’s wrong with him. Can you look him over?”

“I’m a doctor, not a veterinarian!” McCoy protested predictably.

“Yeah, well. Just try, please?” asked Jim, wondering if he should reveal Spock’s true identity. Spock clearly didn’t want him to, but he might really need the help.

“Fine, kid,” McCoy grumbled without further protest. Jim looked more worried than he’d ever seen him. All over a goddam cat. He took out his tricorder and attempted to discern what the readings meant. “Well, looks like he might have been drugged or something. Kinda reminds me of a date rape drug, though why someone would give it to a _cat_ – maybe as an experiment?”

Jim’s eyes grew wide and horrified, as he imagined the awful things that had probably happened to Spock. No wonder he was terrified. “What can we do?”

“Like I said, I’m not a vet, I have no idea how it’ll affect him. _But_ , if he were human, I’d say just wait it out. It’ll wear off. I agree it’s not a nice thing to do to an animal, Jim, but I’ve never seen you this upset. What’s going on?”

“Can he stay here until he gets better?” Jim asked, dodging the question.

McCoy looked at the large feline doubtfully. “Can’t you just give him to a shelter? They’ll take good care of him.”

“Please,” said Jim. “I won’t even bring anyone home while he’s here.”

McCoy stared at Jim in disbelief. He must really want this if he was offering that. “All right. But he better not get cat hair all over the goddam place.”

“Thanks Bones,” Jim said fervently. He didn’t fancy sleeping on the trashed couch, so, despite feeling a little awkward about it, he carried Spock to his bed and settled down next to him. Spock crawled on top of him and buried his face in his chest, still shaking hard. Jim massaged him soothingly as he pulled the covers over them. Maybe when the drug wore off, Spock would be able to change back.

After it seemed like he would never sleep, he finally did. When he woke up, Spock was sound asleep on his chest, still a cat. Jim was reluctant to move him. Luckily, it was Sunday, so he didn’t have to.

Jim didn’t know how much time had passed when McCoy pounded on the door. “Jesus, Jim, you still alive in there?” McCoy actually sounded worried.

“Yeah, I just didn’t want to wake him up,” said Jim.

That cat again. “He doing all right?”

“Yeah, he seems to be sleeping comfortably, and he’s not shaking anymore,” said Jim.

“Good. I still think he should go to a shelter,” McCoy responded.

“Not happening, Bones,” said Jim.

Jim really was giving up sex for this cat. It was really unbelievable. “Suit yourself. Just make sure he stays out of my stuff.”

“Won’t be a problem,” Jim said confidently.

Finally, Spock woke up, though his eyes betrayed pain. Jim imagined it must be from some kind of hangover; he hated to think of what other things might be causing him pain. “Hey. Can you change back yet?” It was a little awkward having Spock here on his chest, now that he seemed calm. But Spock did not seem to want to move, so he let him be. It wasn’t as if he didn’t like it, quite the opposite.

Spock shook his head a little, wincing at the movement.

“Hey, I’ve got to get up and, uh, attend to humanly needs,” said Jim.

Spock obligingly shifted off of him, and curled up underneath the covers. Jim got up and spent time in the bathroom, then grabbed breakfast from the kitchen. After a long debate, he got water and oatmeal for Spock. Seemed safe enough.

Spock gratefully drank the water, and eyed the oatmeal rather dubiously, but ate it anyway. Though Jim was worried about the fact that Spock couldn’t transform, he was relieved to see that he seemed ok otherwise. Maybe he just needed a little more time.

Spock did not seem to want to leave Jim’s bed, so Jim left him there, saying to find him if he needed anything. He left to do some of his homework in the living room.

Spock lay curled completely under the covers, feeling strangely frozen, as if this was the only safe place to be. It was completely illogical, but he could not seem to reason with his frightened feline brain that held him in place. The loss of control yesterday had terrified him, just as much, if not more, than what those men had threatened to do.

When Jim returned to check on him awhile later, Spock still hadn’t moved. “Spock? You all right?” Jim asked, but Spock made no indication that he’d heard. Worried, Jim slid the covers off him. Spock glanced at him, but otherwise, stayed frozen.

“Hey. You’re really worrying me. Is it okay if I tell McCoy who you really are?” Jim asked.

Spock lifted his head and stared at Jim, considering his words. He did not relish the thought of anyone else knowing his secret, yet, it seemed likely he would need assistance if he were to attend classes anytime soon.

“I promise he won’t tell anyone,” Jim added.

Spock nodded and set his head down between his paws.

Jim rejoined McCoy out in the living room, debating how break the news. When he’d imagined this scenario yesterday, it had been considerably more fun, and less worrisome. “Hey, uh, Bones,” Jim started.

“Whatdya want? I’m busy,” McCoy grumped. “It’s not that cat again, is it?”

“Actually it is,” Jim said.

“Well, spit it out. I haven’t got all day,” McCoy pointed out.

“He’s not a cat. He’s Spock,” Jim said, deciding to be blunt.

“Pull the other one, it plays Dixie. I don’t have time for this shit,” Bones complained.

“No, it is Spock, and I’m worried about him. I can prove it,” Jim insisted.

Bones looked at him properly for the first time. Ok, while Jim’s story was ludicrous, it did make everything make perfect sense. Whatever that cat was, Jim genuinely believed it was Spock. “Ok, I’ll bite. How can you prove it?”

“Run a DNA scan,” Jim suggested.

McCoy got up, bringing his tricorder with him. “All right, Jim, but if this is one of your stupid pranks – “

“It isn’t,” Jim assured him.

McCoy waved the tricorder over Spock, frowning, then examined the results. “Good god, Jim. He has Vulcan DNA. I would never have believed it if I hadn’t just seen it myself.” They stared at each other, then Bones met Spock’s gaze awkwardly. “Well, Spock. Looks like you’ll be staying with us until you – well, until you’re normal again. Have any idea how this happened?” he asked Jim.

Jim explained to him what he knew. “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know, Jim. Clearly he’s suffered some kind of trauma. I suspect his shapeshifting problem is psychological, though of course, we have nothing scientific to base that on. We’ll just let him hang out here until he gets over the shock of what happened.”

Spock spent the next few days holed up in Jim’s room before Jim was finally able to coax him outside. “Why don’t you lead me to where it happened?” He suggested. “If you’re comfortable.”

Spock walked on. Jim wasn’t sure if he had agreed until he turned away from the park and headed into town. Finally, he stopped.

“A gay bar?” Jim questioned. Spock just pressed himself harder into Jim’s leg, struggling to keep his primal feline fear instincts under control.

“Hey, let’s go somewhere more inconspicuous,” Jim said. He headed for the very alley that Spock had transformed in. “Let’s stake out here for a bit. If you see who did this to you, swat me, okay?”

Spock gave a sharp nod, and they waited. And waited. Jim was about to call it quits when he felt Spock’s paw make contact with his leg. He wasn’t able to acknowledge it, though, because two men immediately caught sight of him.

“Hey, what are you doing out here all alone?” One asked, looking at him appraisingly.

“Why don’t we buy you a drink?” The other suggested.

“No thanks. I was just looking for a guy that comes here sometimes. He’s Vulcan, has black hair, skinny.” Jim unconsciously clenched his fists at his sides. He didn’t like the vibe he got from them.

They exchanged glances, then leapt at Jim. Spock stood paralyzed in fear as Jim attempted to defend himself. One landed a solid punch on Jim’s face. Before he could think about it, Spock leaped into action, instinctively shifting into the form best suited to survive the encounter: his Vulcan one.

Spock made short work of them, and turned to Jim, unable to control the shaking in his hands. “Hey, we beat them, everything’s fine now,” Jim soothed, taking his hands in his.

“Yes,” Spock gasped out.

“We should contact the authorities. File charges,” Jim said.

“Affirmative.” Spock took a few deeps breathes, attempting to center himself. “We must also get you to Dr. McCoy.”

“Oh yes, the bruise,” Jim said with a dismissive air. “That can wait. I’m more concerned about you.” He massaged Spock’s knuckles with his thumb. “Are you all right?”

“I will be. I must meditate,” Spock stated.

“We should talk to the authorities first,” Jim reminded him reluctantly. Once that was taken care of, they headed back to Jim’s apartment to tend to his injury. Dr. McCoy was nowhere to be seen, so Spock, with still shaking hands, insisted on tending to it himself. Then he shut himself away in Jim’s room to meditate. Jim attempted to do homework, but found it difficult to concentrate. When they’d talked to the police, Spock had given the bare facts of what had happened. Jim couldn’t seem to shake the memory from his mind.

A few hours passed, and it was time for Jim to go to bed. He gently knocked on his door. “Hey Spock, is it okay for me to come in?”

“Affirmative.”

Jim entered slowly. Spock sat crosslegged on his bed, appearing much more composed. “Hey, you’re looking better.”

“Indeed. Thank you for your assistance.”

Spock did not appear to have any intentions of moving. Jim was unwilling to make him leave when he was still in a fragile state. “Well. You can take the bed, I’ll take the couch,” Jim decided. It was hardly appealing, but he’d slept in worse places.

“The couch is not an optimal sleeping surface,” Spock stated reasonably. “We have shared this bed previously. I do not see why we cannot continue the arrangement.”

It had been easy to hide his attraction when Spock was a cat. Now that he was a man, it would be very difficult. “Don’t worry about it, Spock.”

“Vulcans need less sleep than humans. I will take the couch instead,” Spock insisted.

“No way,” Jim said firmly.

“Then we are at an impasse, unless we share the bed,” Spock pointed out. He peered at Jim. He was showing the signs of nervousness that McCoy had said were signs of attraction. “I do not understand your resistance. I was under the impression you would find it a pleasurable experience.” Fresh from meditation and armed with logic, he finally felt bold enough to approach the subject.

“What?” Jim said, frozen.

“I have noted that you are nervous around me. I have been informed this is consistent with behavior that indicates attraction.”

Jim struggled to answer.

“Perhaps it would ease your mind to know that you are not alone in your attraction.”

“You’re-? Really? But you went to a gay bar.”

“I went to the gay bar to figure out how to approach you by observing the techniques of other men. However, after my initial study, I would prefer not to duplicate them.”

“Well,” Jim said with a slow smile. “Where does this leave us?”

“It seems prudent to start with a resolution of our sleeping arrangements.”

“All right,” Jim said. He approached the bed and sat down next to Spock. “Let’s try it.”

Once they settled who would put what where, Jim relaxed. He still didn’t quite feel he could fall asleep yet, but he was getting there.

“Jim. I appreciate all you have done for me in the past few days,” Spock said softly.

“No problem, Spock,” Jim assured him. He was silent a minute. “It can’t have been easy, carrying this secret all by yourself for so long.”

“I am used to standing apart from society,” Spock said, his tone dismissive.

“Well. You don’t have to anymore,” Jim assured him.

Spock simply shifted closer in response.

 

 

 

 

                                                                                                                                                                                


End file.
